


i now pronounce you... groom and groom

by faedemon



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Breekon and Hope Get Married, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Pre-Canon, Truce, Weddings, breekon and hope are both bears i just want you to know that, but lonelyeyes wormed its way in there as well, if ur a b&h twink supporter go home, inspired by tumblr users mrspider and cryptidprynt, this is of course all about breekon and hopes beloved wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faedemon/pseuds/faedemon
Summary: Under the purview of The StrangerBreekon & HopeCordially invite you to attend their wedding celebration.13th January, 20164:30 PM | Elmerton Shipping WarehouseEnd Truce in effect.
Relationships: Breekon/Hope, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 76
Kudos: 264





	i now pronounce you... groom and groom

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by [a headcanon](https://mrspider.tumblr.com/post/618336773900255232/breacon-and-hope-get-married-and-all-the-powers) from Tumblr user mrspider, and [a comic](https://cryptidprynt.tumblr.com/post/618394236045410304/dont-be-rude-jon-theyre-in-love-inspired-by-a-post) based off that headcanon by user cryptidprynt.

Being divorced at the time, Elias decidedly does not attend the wedding _with_ Peter, but he makes it a point to arrive at the same time his ex-husband’s car pulls up. As they each step out of their respective vehicles, Peter shoots him a knowing glance, which Elias pointedly does not acknowledge.

Entering the venue gives Elias the shivers. The End’s influence creeps through the stretch of land surrounding the building—an old shipping and storage warehouse dressed up with the Circus’ gaudy carnival décor, which Elias resists the urge to wrinkle his nose at—and creates a sort of dead zone, pardon the phrasing, in which Beholding’s influence recedes slightly, as with the rest of the entities. It’s necessary for the truce required of all the guests in attendance—wouldn’t want a stray comment to result in a bloodbath, after all—but it unsettles something in Elias nonetheless.

Not that he shows it, of course.

Elias allows Peter to subtly coax their arms to link, and he gazes around the anteroom with mild interest as they move through the doors. He hadn’t taken the time to See what the venue would look like, and it’s surprisingly clean. A temporary wall has been erected between the waiting area and what must lead to the main aisle, and the double doors before them are closed. Milling about the room, with an air of surprisingly little enmity, are a frankly astounding number of avatars from assorted alignments.

Across the room, near the snack table, he sees Mike Crew engaged in conversation with Jane Prentiss, only slightly leaning away from the worms that squirm over her bare skin. She’s wearing a moderately revealing short red dress, but is thankfully keeping her… _progeny_ to herself. Another group includes Nikola Orsinov chatting brightly with Annabelle Cane and, oddly, Jared Hopworth. Scattered around the venue, Elias sees Simon Fairchild, Oliver Banks, Jude Perry, and Maxwell Rayner, among others. An eclectic bunch, none of which Elias especially wants to socialize with, nor, he is sure, does Peter, but, well… _when in Rome,_ he supposes.

Oliver Banks is by himself, gazing out at the guests in much the same way Elias had been. He’s both alone and generally quiet, so Elias steers himself and Peter in the man’s direction.

Oliver’s eyes shift to meet Elias’ as they approach. “Overseer. Mr. Lukas. I’m surprised you showed,” he says, his voice lingering with that odd echo of Death. Despite the less-than-formal dress code, Oliver is dressed to the nines in tasteful black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a dark vest embroidered with intricate patterns of lilies. Not that Elias can blame him—he himself is well overdressed.

“Why wouldn’t I? It would be a shame not to witness such a touching union,” Elias replies as Peter shifts uncomfortably, reaching up to tug at the collar of his shirt. Elias smugly notes the amused quirk of Oliver’s lip.

“I’m certain,” he murmurs, bringing a cup of probably-spiked punch to his lips. After a generous sip, he says, “So, when is this going to start in earnest?”

“You assume that I Know?” Elias asks lightly, focusing on the corner, where the bright yellow door of the Distortion has materialized. From it ambles in what was once Michael Shelley.

“I’m sure that you do.” Oliver’s voice is similarly light, though there’s a hard edge to it. The End’s relationship with Beholding has always been a tad strained. Elias decides not to push the matter.

“Not much longer. Orsinov has to slip ‘backstage’ before the doors can be opened; she’s officiating.” True to word, they watch as the woman peels herself away from the conversation she’d entangled herself in, disappearing through the double doors at the back.

It’s only ten or so more minutes until the doors are opened and the guests are invited inside to take their seats on either side of the aisle. Seating isn’t assigned, but the Stranger’s denizens end up seated frontmost, eager to watch the union of their fellows. Elias settles down with Peter in a couple seats near the back, which serve both of them well—Peter so that he doesn’t have to sit too close to any big group of people, and Elias because he can See the proceedings well enough, regardless of where he chooses to sit.

It’s all a very simple affair. After the guests are settled, there’s only a minute or so of buffer time before the doors at the back are pulled open again in a dramatic gust of wind—Mike Crew’s doing, if the mischievous smile on his face that Elias notes is any indicator—and Breekon and Hope escort each other down the aisle.

They’re dressed simply but formally in neat twin suits, their delivery nametags pinned, as ever, to their breasts. Hope carries a slightly crushed-looking bouquet of flowers that appears altogether too small in his large hands, and Breekon wears a dumb-looking smile that Elias honestly hadn’t known was an expression either of them were capable of making. Behind them, Michael waits at the end of the aisle, a velvet pillow with two matching gold bands resting on it, ready to skip along behind them. With him is Jane, who holds nothing but… ah. Elias fights the urge to grimace as he Knows it. She’s the “flower” girl.

Once Breekon and Hope take their places at the altar, Nikola smiling at them garishly, Jane leads the way after them, dropping worms in a revolting mockery of flower petals as she goes. Michael prances along behind her, literally skipping his way down the aisle, somehow managing not to drop either ring or, in fact, disturb their place whatsoever. Elias would think them tied down, if he could not See that they are not.

There’s a smattering of excited applause as Michael passes the rings off to Nikola, who holds them as she prepares to speak the opening words. Jane and Michael split off to stand on either side of the altar, Jane on Breekon’s side and Michael on Hope’s, acting as what must be the maid of honor and the best man, though why they of all people have filled the positions is beyond Elias.

Hope offers both his hands and Breekon takes them, the two sharing a disgustingly fond look as they wait for Nikola to begin.

“Cruelly beloved,” Nikola starts, her bright voice grating on Elias’ ears. A wave of snickers go around the room as she speaks. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of two of our most adored fellows beneath The Stranger’s unknowable embrace. These two beings…”

Elias tunes Nikola out as she drawls on, instead leaning in as Peter ducks his head to whisper in Elias’ ear. “Does it make you nostalgic?” he murmurs, shooting him a teasing glance. “Our second wedding was nearly this stupid.”

“Please, Peter,” Elias mutters back. “Even having Grifter’s Bone play during the party isn’t as ridiculous as having _the Ringmaster_ officiate.”

Peter hums noncommittally, straightening up again. Elias, after a moment, reaches out to slide his hand into Peter’s. He tries to be inconspicuous about it, but Peter raises an eyebrow anyway, even though he squeezes back.

“Shame if you wanted to get back together,” Peter says mildly. “Wouldn’t want to take away from Breekon and Hope’s spotlight. We’d have to wait at least a couple more years.” Elias bites down on a retort, settling for digging his fingernails into Peter’s palm, who stifles a yelp.

Nikola shuts up, finally, and the room as a whole seems to sharpen back into focus as the grooms exchange vows.

“Hope,” Breekon says. “I have purpose alongside you. With you, I am part of _us_ , and without you I would cease to exist. You have accompanied me on countless deliveries. Now, I deliver to you my heart.” He picks up one of the rings and slides it onto Hope’s waiting finger.

It’s… sweeter than Elias had expected, but about as short. At the altar, Nikola’s smile stretches her face wide, and to the sides, Michael and Jane both look close to tears.

“Breekon,” Hope replies. “I share every day with you at my side and want nothing more than to stay by you forever. Whether we are Breekon and Hope or some other name, I will be with you. We have gone on countless deliveries. Now, I deliver to you my heart.” Hope gives Breekon his ring, and Nikola, nearly jittery with excitement, opens her mouth.

“I, with the Stranger’s blessing, am now _happy_ to pronounce you husband and husband! You may now kiss the groom!” she exclaims. Breekon and Hope clash together in an impressively violent first wedded kiss, and the room _explodes_.

People are cheering, the newlyweds are nearly grinning too much to press their lips together, Jane Prentiss is crying worms. Jude Perry wolf-whistles. Peter grimaces and covers his ears. A parade of spiders are weaving a celebratory banner above the altar, and a glance over at Annabelle Cane sees her giddily conducting them. Jared Hopworth is knocking two human femurs together. 

“Vows were a tad shorter than ours, hmm?” Elias says to Peter, who snorts. They’d made it a game to add as much as humanly possible to their vows with each new wedding. Seven in and it’s getting a tad out of hand.

The wedding party, which occurs in the other sectioned-off half of the warehouse, decorated just as garishly as the anteroom was, might generously be described as an absolute shitshow. No one wastes any time in going for the alcohol, even though dinner is still actively being served, and Elias just sits back and observes as things fall apart. It’s joyous, of course, but a joyous chaos.

“Wouldn’t have pegged Jude Perry for a lightweight,” Peter observes as the second course comes out. “Any of the Desolation’s, honestly.” The woman in question is flirting egregiously with Jane Prentiss, who is equally tipsy, and responds in kind. Elias fights the urge to shudder. _That_ kind of combination is not something he wants to think about.

“Based on looks alone, I’d say Mike Crew would be light, but he’s had six glasses of champagne so far and he’s barely buzzed,” Elias observes, gesturing with his own glass over to where Mike looks on, unimpressed, as Jude takes a sloppy gulp.

“Ain’t that somethin’,” Peter mutters, downing the last of his second.

Dinner is mostly normal until the last course, when Nikola stands up to give a halting, giggling rendition of the shittiest maid-of-honor speech Elias has ever heard. She isn’t even the maid of honor. There isn’t even a bride to _have_ a maid of honor.

And then Michael stands up to try and show Nikola up, and after that Jane stands to try and show _him_ up, and then Nikola gets up again, and it takes at least five people throwing food at her to get her to sit back down.

Some time later, after the cake is cut, a number of things happen. One: Oliver Banks curls up in a corner, drunk out of his mind, consuming a thick slice of cake as if it’s the most decadent thing he’s ever eaten. Two: Maxwell Rayner and Annabelle Cane conspire together to convince Jared Hopworth to annoy Simon Fairchild into submission, who rapidly looks as though he’s contemplating casting the entire venue into the abyss. And three: Hope stands up on one of the tables to toss his thoroughly mangled bouquet over his shoulder.

Anyone not otherwise occupied gets up and crowds together, gunning to catch the flowers more out of a sense of competition than any real desire to play into the superstition. However, they all manage to underestimate Hope’s throwing strength (or perhaps overestimate the wind resistance of a bouquet of flowers), and Elias finds himself catching it on reflex as it sails innocently toward his dessert.

There’s a moment where everybody blinks, and Peter gives him a _look_ , and then Elias has a face-full of grabby hands and he’s forced to toss the flowers back into the deranged crowd of avatars, pleased to be rid of them.

“Next to be married, hmm?” Peter teases. Elias glares, and very pointedly forks a bite of cake into his mouth.

By the end of the night, Elias and Peter are both tipsy, Oliver is passed out in his corner, Jude Perry has burned up some of Jane’s worms in a misguided attempt at making out, and the only person who leaves the warehouse sober is Maxwell Rayner, who does not bother to offer anyone a ride.

Elias and Peter exit the building together. Breaking out into the cool night is a relief; Elias hadn’t realized how hot it had been inside, and lets out a slight sigh as the breeze washes over him. Stepping beyond the boundary of the End’s truce zone is even more of a relief, and Elias immediately casts his Eye about, looking in on each of his employees, his private residences, and the Institute for a brief moment. All is as it should be.

While they wait for their cars to pull up, Elias invites himself to be tucked under Peter’s arm, the chill of the night quickly moving from pleasant to slightly-colder-than-comfortable. Peter says nothing, but Elias Knows his quiet amusement.

Peter’s car shows up first. Elias reluctantly steps away, but Peter turns back before he goes to leave.

“Sure you don’t want to get married again?” he asks. Elias scoffs.

“At least take me to dinner first. Forsaken seems to have stolen your manners,” he says, turning up his nose. Peter only chuckles.

“I’ll pick you up next Thursday, then,” Peter says, and Elias turns back to make eye contact.

“Chicken out again and I’ll divorce you twice over,” he says petulantly. Then, “Good night, Peter.”

“Good night, Elias.”

**Author's Note:**

> lmk what yall thought lmao. this was fun to write & perhaps it's a bit over-the-top, but that's crack, baby!


End file.
